Ghost Fever
by Trice
Summary: Another M&L ghost fic challenge response. And this time I'm under 1500 words! Involves Max, Logan, Asha, the virus, its cure, Bast and more... COMPLETE and in dire need of reviews.


Ghost Fever  
  
Logan had been sitting in front of the computer the whole day, trying to find some way he could expose Manticore. But finally, his stomach had begun to rumble and he decided it was time to appease it with some food instead of his habitual cup of coffee after countless other cups of coffee.  
  
He moved to stand up and flinched as his leg muscles cramped on him, forcing him to sit back down again. The sudden movement caused him even more distress, since he realized that it wasn't only his legs that had fallen asleep, but his rear, too. He chuckled dryly. After such a long time of sitting in the weelchair without feeling anything, it had chosen this exact moment to act up. Oh, well.  
  
He stood up again, somewhat wobbly, making his way to the kitchen, to his empty fridge. Looking for something edible to hold him over, he quickly scanned the contents.  
  
Cheese, beans, ham. milk.  
  
Since the raid on Manticore he hadn't bothered to replenish his huge fridge with fresh vegetables or anything, living mostly off canned food or whatever he could pick up on his raids for information. Strangely enough, he had recently caught himself buying milk, even though he didn't particularly like it. When Max had been around, it had become somewhat of a habit, just so he'd have a natural source of tryptophan handy for her. He supposed it was ingrained so deeply into him, he was still doing it unconsciously. Changing his mind, he left the milk on the counter and got himself a glass of water, heading back for his computer.  
  
It was then that he heard it. It came from somewhere above him, faintly at first, then louder, so loud that he froze with the glass of water at his lips.  
  
He dove for the gun he kept in the drawer next to his computer and gripped it hard as he tried to make out where exactly the noise was coming from. Whom else had he pissed off this time? Slowly, he relaxed his hold on the gun, as he realized it didn't matter much who or what was on the roof above him. He wouldn't put up a fight. Not now, not anymore.  
  
But that darn noise irked him to no end. There was something familiar to it and he was trying hard to place it, except. he couldn't. Frustrated, he followed it through the house. It seemed like. Suddenly, just as he had almost identified the sound, it stopped right above him.  
  
The skylight!  
  
Logan didn't have time for any more musings on the subject. With a screech and a bang, something came through and hit him from above, sending him tumbling to the floor while his gun was thrown away from him in a high loop.  
  
When he finally looked up, all limbs aching, his face froze in surprise. Large brown eyes fixed him curiously. Looking at them, Logan felt himself rooted to the spot, not daring to move a muscle. Only his eyes followed her smooth movements, making a sound he would have defined like almost purring, as she went passed him and disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
Still dumbstruck, he hauled himself to his feet and silently followed the ethereal shadow, heart thumping wildly. He didn't even dare utter a sound, for fear she'd disappear just as mysteriously as she had come.  
  
She was drinking the milk as if she hadn't eaten in days. Totally at ease, she didn't look up when he entered, but he could discern the small white milk line around her upper lip and it made him smile. She was home.  
  
Permanently watching her from the corner of his eyes, he scrambled to the fridge to whip up something more consistent for her. If she were that famished, she would need something more nutritious than milk. Besides, he still remembered her ravenous hunger most times she came from an Eyes Only mission. It was normal behaviour for an X5. But then, she wasn't really a soldier. Not anymore.  
  
He opened the fridge door carefully, so as not to startle her, and feverishly thought about something he could quickly prepare for her. Darn! The gaping fridge didn't leave him much of a choice.  
  
Molded cheese, week-old, dried beans, shriveled ham. milk. He'd heat it up for her, that was the least he could do.  
  
Turning toward the stove, he couldn't help himself and stared at her. She had almost finished drinking. And then her beautiful brown eyes met his.  
  
"You ever notice how cats always seem to turn up around dinnertime?"  
  
He gulped. Of all the things he had expected she'd say, this was so not it.  
  
"You're not going to make me eat dinner all by myself, are you?" she prodded.  
  
Still looking at her, he poured himself a cup of milk and drained it, just to humour her. Thousands of questions were forming in his mind but the most important one would probably send her running. Fervently hoping he wasn't dreaming it all up, he decided questions could wait. Only one thing mattered right now: that she had come back.  
  
"I hope you'll be staying this time."  
  
She cocked her head, her milk stained upper lip curling in what under different circumstances could have been a smile. "Promise I won't bail on you."  
  
Trying hard to control the sudden shaking that threatened to take over his fingers, Logan took a step forward, extending a hand toward her. She came closer, her hips undulating with every movement, her eyes never leaving his. He reached out to cup her beautiful head and she rewarded him with a deep scratch on the back of his hand, proceeding to rub her sleek, black body on his leg and softly purring as if nothing had happened.  
  
*  
  
"Logan!"  
  
Frantic, Asha rushed toward Logan, whose body was seizing on the floor, burning all up with fever.  
  
"Logan, wake up!" She tried to drag him toward the couch, but realized she'd never be able to haul him up alone. What had he done? He had promised not to take that antigen until Dr. Carr had had a chance to look at it and pronounce it safe. Damn! Now he was delirious, flushed with fever and lying in a puddle of spilt milk in the middle of his kitchen.  
  
Reaching for her cell phone, Asha did the only sensible thing. She couldn't keep the secret anymore, regardless of Logan's earlier plea. First of all she called Dr. Carr, then Max.  
  
*  
  
Several hours later, Max was still standing in the corner of Logan's kitchen, waiting for Sam to call and give the verdict. Would Logan make it or would she have killed him? After all, he had injected himself with the antigen for her. For them.  
  
When the phone finally rang, she jumped up, arching her back as she dove for it.  
  
"Yes?" Her voice quivered only slightly.  
  
Sam's voice resounded through the speakers. "He'll make it, but he was extremely lucky. The antigen contained a toxine deadly to humans. For some reason he drank some milk after ingesting the antigen and that helped neutralize the poisonous substances until I got to him. If he hadn't had the milk, he'd be dead by now."  
  
Max let out a relieved sigh and sunk to her haunches as Asha took over, thanking Dr. Carr. Finishing, the blonde girl put a hand on Max's shoulder.  
  
"He's waking up. But he's been delirious most of the time. He kept talking about a cat. You don't have one, do you?"  
  
Max shook her head. No, no cats that she knew of.  
  
Silently, she entered his room. As enraged by his stupid penchant for secrecy as she was, seeing him almost lost in that huge bed, she couldn't focus on her anger. Instead, she felt herself suffused by elation and a sudden urge to cry on his shoulder. Settling next to him on the bed, she took his hand, and started to absently stroke it, waiting for him to wake up. She reveled in the simple gesture of touching him. It was then that she noticed the angry red welt on the back of his right hand. She didn't have any time to think about it, though, as he stirred and whispered her name.  
  
"Max."  
  
"Shh." Bending over the bed to inspect his face and look for any other signs of recovery, she glimpsed the Bast statue that loomed dark in a corner of the room. For a moment, she hesitated, but then decided that being field commander in the Logan Cale brigade for the defense of widows, small children, and lost animals had payed off. "Are you going to feed me or are you just going to sit there?"  
  
"What?!" Logan gulped, feeling the beginning of a grin creep over his face.  
  
"When some girls don't eat dinner they get real cranky," Max elaborated, her upper lip curling in a smile, while his hand tightened its grip on hers.  
  
"I hope you'll be staying this time," he ventured.  
  
She cocked her head and with a surreptitious glance to the corner of the room, she reassured him. "Promise I won't bail on you this time."  
  
THE END 


End file.
